


the devil's water, it ain't so sweet

by evanescent



Series: under starless skies [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Batfam Week 2017, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Pre-Reboot, Underage Drinking, car theft, i mean the comfort sucks but it's kinda there ig, just. bad choices all around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 14:11:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11209701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evanescent/pseuds/evanescent
Summary: After a few minutes, Tim starts, “You’re probably wondering why –”“No, not really,” Jason cuts him off, can’t stop himself from being an asshole. After a moment, not taking his eyes off the empty street, he continues, “Although I can’t help but wonder, does it have to do with B?”Tim makes a weird sound, somewhere between a snort and a sob. “No, not really,” he repeats after Jason. “Today is… the anniversary of my dad’s death.”





	the devil's water, it ain't so sweet

**Author's Note:**

> next fic in this series was supposed to be tim and cass, but instead this one happened. title from when you were young by the killers which i think suits both tim and jason but for different reasons
> 
> warnings for profanity, underage drinking, grief and mentions of emetophobia
> 
> for batfam week day four: hurt/comfort

Jason notices him out of boredom, really.

He’s sitting in a dingy bar in the heart of Park Row, one that Red Hood frequents to bash some skulls, but Jason himself avoids when he can. The fact he’s here now, in civilian clothes no less, still has to do with work -- Jason got information that Vincent Vaughn, a new drug lord wannabe selling to kids without fucking remorse or even fear of the Red Hood in is heart, is going to be here tonight. He wants to observe the man, wait him out, strike and teach a lesson or two, preferably all tonight. Jason is patient, but his drink is only to keep up appearances and he’s growing antsy.

That’s when his eyes drift to the bar and it takes him a moment to tell what-- _who_ is out of place. When he sees Tim (who didn’t even seem to try hard to conceal his identity), Jason’s first feeling is anger, red and ugly. It’s irrational, he can kind of understand that now, but it still takes him a moment to calm down. Just then comes surprise. Is Tim working on a case? But it doesn’t seem so, if a collection of empty shot glasses on the counter is anything to go by. For how it all looks like, it’s like Drake is just on his best way to get drunk for some reason. He chose literally the worst place to do so in, but it’s not Jason’s business as long as Tim doesn’t get in his way. He did help Damian out a few weeks back, but he’s not here to look after Bruce’s lost birds. He scoffs and directs his casual attention back to the door.

Half an hour later, Jason comes to a sour realization: either Vaughn had a sudden change of heart or Red Hood got lied to his face. (Well, helmet.) Neither makes him happy and the second one especially stings. He’ll have to find good old Bobby and remind him _not_ to play dumb with people you’re supposed to give reliable info to.

Jason gets up, but doesn’t head for the exit. He casts a half-hearted look at the bar; Tim is still there, definitely not Jason’s problem. He didn’t drink so much that he shouldn’t be able to take care of himself, or so Jason would like to think; Tim was here before him, after all. However, Jason knows it’s not a good bar to drink by yourself until you pass out; the place is shady and its clients even more so. Getting mugged is nowhere high on the list of bad things that regularly happen here.

He heaves a sigh and heads there. Tim doesn’t seem to sense him approach or just doesn’t care, not until Jason fishes Tim’s expensive wallet out of his jacket, throws some cash on the counter and says, “He’s had enough.”

Tim whips his head around and Jason sees he’s already tipping into the drunk stage, but not so much that he can’t hiss at him, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I should ask you that,” Jason answers nonchalantly. Recently, he’s found out it’s easier to keep from getting angry at his replacement if he’s the one angry at Jason in the first place. It’s kind of amusing to watch. “This place is not in your usual league, I’d say.”

“Like hell you know,” Tim spits back at him. “Someone called you to get me?”

Jason raises an eyebrow. “Drake, in your current state, you seem to be forgetting just where I stand with this annoying flock you all call a family,” he says dryly. “You, however,” he continues, lowering his voice so the bartender staring at them suspiciously won’t hear, “still are Tim _Wayne_ , even if you’re trying to get blackout drunk in a shithole in Park Row. Really want to have to smooth over eventual scandal with dad dearest?”

Jason must have struck a nerve somewhere because Tim looks like he’s going to punch him. In the end, however, his little speech seems to work, as Tim shrugs on his jacket and leaves without a word, heading for the exit. Jason gives the bartender a mocking salute and trails after him.

The air outside is chilly and just the right other kind of _stinky_ to clear Jason’s mind. He glances at to Tim, who’s looking prissy and sick, and sad, underneath all that.

 _Not my problem, I don’t owe him anything_ , Jason thinks even as he says, “You don’t look too well, kid. It’s better to barf than keep it inside.”

“I’m fine,” Tim insists, even as he finally, _finally_ starts looking regretful about all the alcohol he consumed. Jason would be laughing at him except he kind of isn’t in the mood for stubborn avoidance Drake is so good at.

“I’d rather you puke now than when I’m driving,” Jason tells him, unceremoniously shoving stumbling Tim into a reeking alley next to the bar. “I’m gonna get a car.”

“Wait, Jason, you asshole--!”

Jason ignores Tim and whatever insults he might throw his way and looks at the cars nearby. There’s not much to choose from, really; all of them are rather ugly and shitty, but it makes the lock-picking all that easier. He settles for a dark blue sedan and by the time he’s got the car up and running, Tim hobbles out of the alley, wiping at his mouth with a sleeve of his jacket.

“I hate you,” he tells Jason bitterly, even though he looks marginally less likely to keel over.

“The feeling is mutual, I assure,” Jason replies flatly as Tim gets into the car. He takes the front seat, but sits as far from Jason as he can, almost gluing himself to the window and the door. Well, he doesn’t exactly blame Drake. “Your apartment in Bowlery okay?”

“How do you--?” Tim asks and Jason gives him a look. Tim’s shoulders slump with resignation as he averts his eyes. “Yeah, it’s okay.”

After a few minutes, Tim starts, “You’re probably wondering why--”

“No, not really,” Jason cuts him off, can’t stop himself from being an asshole. After a moment, not taking his eyes off the empty street, he continues, “Although I can’t help but wonder, does it have to do with B?”

Tim makes a weird sound, somewhere between a snort and a sob. “No, not really,” he repeats after Jason. “Today is… the anniversary of my dad’s death.”

 _Oh_ , Jason thinks. That explains a lot. He can relate to an urge to get drunk on days like this; granted, he feels like that on his own death anniversary, but that should count, too.

Still. He glances at Drake. “I’m not the best equipped person to handle your daddy issues, just so you know.”

That, out of all things, gets a weak laugh out of Tim. “Oh, I know,” he says and Jason feels a little pissed at him. But when Tim speaks again, his voice is wistful. “It’s just, for some reason, I remembered… Back when Ra’s tried to get hold of Damian’s body, he made… offers to me. Along the lines of using a Lazarus Pit for my own purposes.”

Jason pretends that he slams the brake hard is because the light’s just changed to red. “Meaning…”

“What you think.” Tim shrugs. “Back then, it was -- people around me kept dying. Steph. Conner. My dad. Well, later it turned out Steph wasn’t really dead and Conner came back, too, but. I couldn’t know that then.” He chuckles sadly. “And I couldn’t expect any miracles for my dad, he was just a regular guy after all. I remember reasoning with Dick about that, saying,” Tim’s shoulders raise a little, but he goes on, “saying that since you came back, why couldn’t he?” He rubs a hand over his eyes and Jason feels just a little touch of relief it doesn’t seem to be wet from tears. “I didn’t go through with it, in the end. I had the samples ready, I could take them… But I didn’t. I don’t think I regret it, but sometimes...”

Jason is looking straight ahead as he drives through the intersection and says, “Be glad you didn’’t. Not everyone wants to be alive.” He pauses. “And even if, not everyone would appreciate coming back. Not like that.”

He can tell Tim is staring at him. It’s not helping Jason calm down. “But you didn’t…”

“Yeah, me coming back was more like a cosmic mistake,” he agrees smoothly. “But I doubt coming back through the Pit would have been much better than what actually happened. It’s just.” Jason takes a breath. “It’s not good. Magic or science, or whatever it truly is -- most of all, it’s… abnormal. Vile. I mean, look at Ra’s,” he jokes, trying to brush off a moment of sincerity.

Tim is quiet for a moment before asking, “Are you talking about soul?”

Jason does bark a laugh at that. “This is not a subject you want to breach,” he tells Tim simply. Jason is better off not thinking about salvation and metaphysical stuff. He’s got enough on his plate as it is, without having to worry about the state of his supposed soul.

Tim looks like he wants to argue, but he only turns his head to the window and says, “My dad, he… wasn’t the best. I know that. Actually, I feel like we only really connected in that short time leading up to his death, after I became Robin again. But.” He breathes in and out, slowly, deeply. “He didn’t deserve that.”

Jason could say, _No, he didn’t, they usually don’t_ ; he could let slightly-less-heavy silence hang between them, but he’s never been known for taking an easy way out. Instead, he says, “And Boomerang came back, and he’s walking around. How does that make you feel?”

Tim goes rigid next to him, not turning away from the window. “Do you really have to ask?” he says and his voice reminds Jason that while Tim is not him, he isn’t Bruce, either.

They’re not far from their destination now and Jason knows he’s on the verge of how much longer he can carry out a relatively civil conversation with his replacement. Nevertheless, he finds himself speaking up all the same.

“I still remember the night Talia showed me photos of you. In the costume,” Jason clarifies when Tim shoots him a puzzled look. “It was so easy, seeing the proof, knowing there’s a new Robin out there. To get angry.” _To be hurt_. “To hate you, and B.” _To feel completely forgotten_. “Like my death didn’t matter at all.”

He can guess it was one of Talia’s objectives then, to give him another reason for his crusade, fuel for revenge. Oh, how well it worked. And even in his inebriated stated, Tim is still eerily sharp, able to read between the lines. It’s one of the things Jason honestly can’t stand about him.

“It’s not about replacing you, Jason. It never was.” Tim sounds tired. “It was about stopping Bruce from falling apart, the only way I knew how. The only way I thought he could accept help.”

A few years ago, Jason wouldn’t believe that -- scratch that, he _didn’t_. Even now, he isn’t entirely convinced, but his only outward reaction is clenching the steering wheel tighter.

“Your stop, Drake,” he says a moment later, slowing down by the sidewalk but not killing the engine.

Tim looks like he wants to say something more, but he only licks his lips and manages to step outside. Before he walks away, though, he glances at the vehicle and frowns profoundly.

“It’s not your car,” he states slowly, like he’s just realized.

Jason almost laughs at that. “No shit, Sherlock.”

Tim massages his temples. “Was I just, after getting drunk, driven home in a stolen car by a guy who’s legally dead and hates my guts?”

“Don’t forget I don’t have a driving license, too,” Jason adds. “And worry not, it’s not going to become a thing,” Jason assures him before pressing down on the gas, taking a vicious pleasure in the way Tim jumps and grimaces at the noise.

Driving away, Jason thinks he may keep the car. Even if just for kicks.

**Author's Note:**

> now, does _the devil's water_ refers here to the waters of lazarus pit, or alcohol, or both, i bet you wonder


End file.
